Oh, this explains it!

I'm in the thick of it.  I love my new job, but if I keep eating cookies, it could become a problem...

change expectations

In the last few weeks I've gone through a lot of change -- I got a new job (that starts tomorrow) and met a new guy (who's pretty terrific).  So it's no wonder that I haven't written much here recently.

It brings up something important about change that a lot of people overlook.  Every new beginning starts with an ending and a drop in performance.  Before I can start my new job, I have to finish up my old one.  And that means I'm not moving forward with anything new, I'm wrapping up all my old stuff.  Before I can get serious with my fella, I have to stop dating other people and take down my online profiles.  That makes sense.

But what most people forget is that our productivity -- at work, in our hobbies, running errands, whatever -- starts to plummet.

This model, adapted from William Bridges' book Transitions: Making Sense of Life’s Changes, shows how productivity predictably behaves during a change.

In that first phase, you're in an ending.  Like me, maybe you're experiencing some anticipation, anxiety, and perhaps mild terror.  (You don't have to experience all those feelings listed -- I'm not angry or in shock, but I might be if the choice to leave my old job wasn't mine.)

In that second phase, which I'll be entering shortly, there's a lot of waiting, confusion, topsy-turviness, and some of that anxiety can continue.  Anyone who's had a new job or moved to a new city know this phase well -- how can you be efficient when you don't know where the bathroom or the grocery store is?  And the big mistake we make in this phase is beating ourselves up for not being more effective and productive.  But it's natural to tank here.

Eventually, though, that new beginning starts in earnest, and things start to get better.  We feel more comfortable, competent, and confident in our new role.  It's the new natural, or the new default state.

There are no rules about how long each phase lasts.  Sometimes you're in Phase 1 for hours, other times for weeks.  My personal experience is that Phase 2 lasts the longest, but that's because I'm hyper-sensitive to not being productive.  (In fact, I've often taken action in that middle phase that I've regretted later because I was hasty, anxious to get going, and should have been a little more patient with myself.)

I bring this up because it's easy to get frustrated during a change -- especially if you're changing with other people.  You may go through each phase fairly quickly, while a loved one or coworker doesn't.  The important thing to remember is that a) if you're in the middle of a change, it does get better, and b) just because you're on board doesn't mean others will meet you there on your schedule.

book review: Manifesting Change by Mike Dooley

I’m a subscriber to Notes from the Universe (which, if you aren’t, you should be and can sign up here) and the notes are always these wonderfully peaceful and inspirational thoughts. So I wanted to read more from Mike Dooley, the man who writes them.

I also want to shift some things in my life right now, and I’m open to all kinds of methods. I’ve tried coaching, I’ve tried therapy, I’ve tried working my butt off, I’ve tried crowdsourcing… and while each method has brought more into my life and helped me along the way, I’m always fascinated by a new way of looking at things. So I picked up Manifesting Change: It Couldn't Be Easier. (Appealing title, no?)

At the heart of the book are these instructions:
1. Identify your end destination
2. Move in that direction
3. Let the universe figure out the rest for you.


Like he said, it can’t be easier.

There are, however, a few things you should be aware of as you embark down the manifesting path. First, you want to identify your end destination in vague but specific terms. “I am blissfully happy in a relationship with a man” instead of “I am blissfully happy in a relationship with Fred.” “I have the job of my dreams that brings me wealth and meaningful work” instead of “I have the VP of Sales position at JPMorgan that makes me $1 million a year.” The argument here is that the more you narrow down the options for what will make you happy, the harder the universe is going to have to work to put all the right pieces together to make it happen.

Second, you must move in the direction of your joy. It’s not enough to identify your end result and visualize 24 hours a day and never get off the couch. If you’re looking for a job, you must visualize, identify how you want to feel in your job, and maybe some specifics around how much you want to make or how meaningful your contribution is, and then you must go out there and, as Dooley calls it, “knock on some doors.”

[Sidenote: a friend once told me about how she had completely given up on dating and her mother told her that she can’t just give up. That love “doesn’t just walk up to your door and knock.” The next day, the refrigerator repair man walked up and knocked on the door and they’ve been married for 10 years. It’s probably easier, however, to be out in the world of people if you want to meet your soulmate.]

And then the third part is the most challenging part for me – step back, and let the universe drive for you. The more I read this book, the more I realized how much of a control freak I am, always trying to control when I’m dating, what kind of work I do, how much of an impact I have on the world around me. So I’m practicing letting go and, in the proverbial 12 step language, letting god. I’ve turned it over to the universe, so watch out! I’ll probably be married before the R train goes back through the tunnel!

book review -- Decisive by Chip and Dan Heath

Making decisions – good decisions – is challenging, especially when the stakes are high. Chip and Dan Heath have put together a book that really helps to make the process easier and more likely to produce good results.

Their acronym, WRAP, reminds us of facets of good decision making that often go overlooked.

W: Widen your options
Our thinking is incredibly limited when making an “either-or” decision – do I stay in this relationship or not? Do I take the promotion or not? One of the ways in which to widen your options (and ensure better decision making) is to include at least a third option. The best way to generate that third option is to imagine that your original two options are impossible. (“Ok, so I can’t stay in this relationship, and I can’t get out of it, either. What are my other options?”) This causes us to be creative and not to get stuck in our preconceived, binary notions.

Another idea that helps to widen your options is to find someone else who has already solved your problem. If you’re trying to decide whether or not to go to the Grand Canyon, find someone else who has gone there. (Like me!)

A third point the authors make in this first section is that we approach problems with a “promotion” or “prevention” mindset. The promotion mindset is all about solving problems and seeking positive outcomes, whereas the prevention mindset is all about keeping bad things from happening. Promotion is more freeing, more creative. Prevention is more fear-based, more restrictive. When facing a difficult decision, try to look at it from both angles instead of just one or the other.

R: Reality Test Your Assumptions
Once you’ve got more options (thanks, step one!), it’s worth taking a look at them from some different angles. Zoom in – see what the details of what life with that promotion would look like on a day-to-day basis. And zoom out – get an overview of what would be different if you stayed in that relationship from a big picture perspective.

Another idea the Heaths throw out there is to deliberately make a “mistake.” I do this a lot, especially in dating – going into a situation that I know could be a flop, just to see what happens. 90% of the time, it’s a flop. But every now and then I surprise myself.

And a third idea from this section is one they call “ooching.” It’s kind of a cross between an inch and a scootch, and basically means trying something out in a little way before applying it in a big way. Ooch before you leap. This could mean volunteering or interning in the field you’re considering changing to before getting a graduate degree in it. (I hear this happens a lot with law school. People like the idea of being a lawyer a lot more than the actual practice of it. Working at a law firm can show you what you’re getting yourself into before you acquire years of debt to pay off.)

A: Attain Distance Before Deciding
Short-term emotion is a powerful thing. We see it often in relationships – more easily, however, in others’ than in our own. A friend of mine met a woman a while ago who, when they first met, was The Perfect Woman. She was funny, smart, and could do no wrong. A few months in, however, he found out she was an alcoholic and a cold hearted bitch. So… finding a way to get some distance from the powerful emotion of the moment is very helpful in making effective decisions.

The same holds true for new jobs. The Heaths tell a story about a woman who had a terrific job interview that would create all kinds of wonderful opportunities for her and scratch all the itches her current job was creating. However, after attaining some distance, this woman was able to see that the new job wasn't going to solve all her problems, and would, in fact, create some new ones that were potentially worse than her current ones. How did she decide? She went back to her core values.

Core values are something I talk about a lot with my clients, and I’m glad to see them reflected in a book about decision-making.

A key point the authors make in this section is that we are generally better at giving advice to others than we are at giving it to ourselves, for a variety of reasons (most of which are due to our own biases). If you’re in an emotionally-charged decision spot, a great question to ask yourself is “what would I tell a friend to do now?” Usually that’s pretty good advice.

P: Prepare to be Wrong
One problem most decision-makers face is overconfidence. We don’t expect our decisions to turn out badly, and so once we make a decision, we turn on autopilot and just cruise along. The Heaths recommend creating a tripwire – a condition that will alert us to the failure (or potential failure) of our decision. The example they give in the book is excellent – it’s about David Lee Roth’s insistence on having no brown m&ms backstage.

Back in the day, Van Halen traveled with a lot of equipment and had very complex setups. So they sent ahead a list of things that needed to be done in each venue to make sure that the show would be adequately set up and safe. Buried deep in the middle of that list was a specification that there be no brown m&ms in the dressing room. If David Lee Roth walked into the dressing room and saw brown m&ms, he knew that the venue had not carefully read the list of safety protocols and that the safety team would have to do a thorough walk-through. If there were no brown m&ms, that review could be more cursory. The m&ms became their tripwire.

If you’re facing a decision, what would be your tripwire? If you take that new job in hopes that it will allow you more time with your family, maybe hitting 70 hours a week at work is your tripwire. Identifying it in advance will allow you to go into autopilot without going too far down the wrong road.


There are a ton of great stories in this book, and really useful, directly applicable advice. It’s written in a fun, chatty tone, and has a decent sense of humor for a book about decision-making.

From the book: “Being decisive is itself a choice. Decisiveness is a way of behaving, not an inherited trait. It allows us to make brave and confident choices, not because we know we’ll be right, but because it’s better to try and fail than to delay and regret. Our decisions will never be perfect, but they can be better. Bolder. Wiser. The right process can steer us toward the right choice.”

You can read more about the book here, and register on their website to get all kinds of helpful resources, like a book group study guide or a copy of the first chapter (so you can ooch your way into it).

acceptance and forgiveness

I feel like acceptance and forgiveness are like the chicken and the egg -- which comes first?

I have a friend, who, when he was my boyfriend, dumped me three different times.  The first time he dumped me because he got a promotion at work and was too busy to see me.  The second time he dumped me because he freaked out and felt so overwhelmed by his life that he couldn't make time in it for me.  And the third time he dumped me, surprise surprise, he didn't have time for me.

The first two times, I forgave him (obviously), but I didn't accept that the way he was (and the reasons for which he was dumping me) wasn't going to change.  I thought, "oh, if only he gets a less stressful job," or "if only he chose to make having a relationship a priority, this could work."  Except that that's not who he is.  Work is his priority.  No matter how much he talks about wanting a relationship (and he does), until that core value of his changes, he won't have one.  Or at least not with me.

The third time he dumped me, however, I went beyond forgiveness into acceptance.  I finally saw him for who he is, for where he is, and for what he's capable of now, not in some distant, magical future.  I let go of his potential, and accepted his actual.  The funny thing is, I don't know how I did it.  All I know is that it's done.

He came to me recently and told me he had a choice between a job that would be less demanding (but potentially more spiritually fulfilling -- yay!) and one that would be more demanding (but potentially soul-crushing -- boo!).  I knew immediately which he would choose, even though I was hoping he could find it in himself to choose the other one.  When he told me, he was worried I would be disappointed in him.  And while I'll admit I was sad that he was going to miss another opportunity to take his life in a new direction,  I wasn't the least bit disappointed in him.  Because I can now accept him for who he is.

In this case, forgiveness came before acceptance.  Three times.

However, I'm struggling with a non-romantic relationship right now, and I'm feeling pulled to accept before forgiving.  I know the situation won't change.  I know that.  But I'm finding it hard to give up hope that it will.  And that hope is addictive.  It's alluring.  And it's what leads me straight to disappointment.

When I write it out, it seems perfectly clear:  If I can accept that things won't change and I can forgive this person for being who he is (and not being who I want/hope/need him to be) then I'm scott free.  If I can let that hope die, then I can also rid myself of the disappointment.

So why am I having such a hard time with it?  Did the chicken have this much trouble with the egg?

Tools for the new year

Now is as good a time as any to start preparing for next year.  To help you do that, I've organized a number of tools that I think you may find useful in pursuing what you want next year.

1.  Me
Lest we forget that I am more than just a blogger, I will remind you that I coach, I teach, and I help get people unstuck from wherever they're stuck.  I charge $75 a session (which, in this world, is a STEAL) and I've got a lot of happy clients, with always room for one more...

2.  Make it Happen Now! Workshop, January 12th and 27th
This is a course I offer every year at the start of the year.  It helps you identify what you want, figure out what stands in your way, make a plan to go after what you want, and develop accountability to make sure you stick with your plan.  It's $75 for four hours and past participants have repeated the course year after year.  Find out more about it here.

3.  Notes from the Universe
This is a great site that will send you messages every weekday morning to remind you how wonderful you are and how you fit into the bigger picture of the universe around you.  I use them as a springboard for my meditation and to reconnect me with my heart.  Here's a sample message:

The one thing all famous authors, world-class athletes, business tycoons,singers, actors, and celebrated achievers in any field have in common, Kate,is that they all began their journeys when they were none of these things.Yet still, they began their journeys.You are so poised for greatness,The Universe
One day, they're going to name something big after you, Kate!Like a statue, a college... or a hurricane.

You can sign up for them at here.

4.  Robert Holden's Shift Happens

I've learned a lot from Robert Holden and find him to be one of the warmest, sweetest, and friendliest thinkers out there.  I've signed up for his mailing list and, like the Universe, every weekday morning I get a motivating message from him.  For example:

Today is a good day for forgiveness. Mind you, forgiveness is not for everyone. It is only for those who would like to experience peace, love, joy, bliss, healing, freedom, total salvation and things like that.

You can sign up here , where you'll find lots of other great tools from Robert, too.

5.  Coach Alba

This is a tool from the people at Change Anything that can help you stay on track by receiving texts to help you get through what they call "Crucial Moments."  I imagine I might use it at night when I have a tendency to eat mindlessly -- just a quick text from Coach Alba to remind me to be mindful, and all of a sudden I'm brought back to myself.  At the moment, it's programmed to best work with people who want to lose weight, though I imagine they'll come up with other iterations of it.

You can find it here.

6.  StickK

This is a site I wrote about earlier that provides you with external motivation when your internal motivation starts to lag.  Essentially what you do is sign up for a challenge -- losing weight, getting a new job, working on your memoir, writing a new song, whatever -- and then wager with stickK that you will commit to taking action on that goal, or you'll have to pay money, either to a friend, a charity, or an "anti-charity" (a cause you hate).  I've used this technique with clients before with really great results, but you can try it for yourself online here.

7.  Avoiding Destination Addiction

Just watch this video:

8.  My Previous Posts on Goal Setting

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part III (part two)

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

Part VII

the gift of fear

I recently spent the weekend with a dear friend who is going through a series of life transitions all at the same time and she is, quite understandably, terrified.  And while I don't envy her situation, I am able to see a silver lining in it -- if she weren't afraid, she wouldn't have the opportunity to be courageous.

Think about it:  courage is not about being fearless, it's about being afraid and acting anyway.  Without fear, there is no courage.

I make my living as a corporate trainer -- I speak in public regularly.  For some people, my job would be their waking nightmare, day after day, speaking in front of others.  For them, it would take massive amounts of courage.  But for me, because I'm not afraid of it, it's a no-brainer.  Conversely, moms around the world will hold their children's hair while they barf.  (Hell, college freshman do it, too.)  For me, that would require inner depths of strength that I don't know if I have.  Fear and courage are both relative, and just because you're afraid doesn't mean you're weak.  It's how you choose to act while you're afraid that helps to define and forge your character.

So what can you do to become more courageous, and to tune down the voices in your head that say you're going to die?  Here are a couple of things that have worked for me in the past:

1. Focus on the learning.
When I'm doing something hard (/scary/terrifying) I often look down the road and ask myself what the long-term benefit will be.  Will I be growing into someone I want to be?  Will I be proud of my actions in this current moment once it has passed?  What am I striving for from my life, and will taking this terrifying action give me more of that?  If so, I act.  I seize the opportunity to grow.

2. Lean into it
Sometimes the best thing you can do is stop fighting the shoulds -- "I shouldn't be afraid of this" or "I should know how to do this already" or "I should be able to handle this."  Instead of worrying and shoulding all over yourself, think of the challenging situation as an opportunity to think about who you could become.  Find a way to be ok with the uncomfortable feelings -- maybe by regularly repeating something like, "this, too, shall pass" or breathing deeply every time anxiety shows up.  Just leaning into the change in a gentle, what-is-possible-here kind of way.

3. Use beginner's mind
The apocryphal Zen story helps to define (mystically) the concept of beginner's mind:  A university professor went to visit a famous Zen master. While the master quietly served tea, the professor talked about Zen. The master poured the visitor's cup to the brim, and then kept pouring. The professor watched the overflowing cup until he could no longer restrain himself. "It's overfull! No more will go in!" the professor blurted. "You are like this cup," the master replied, "How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup."

When we treat ourselves as experts, there is no room to fail and grow.  And this makes uncertain times even more stressful because we feel like we have to know what to do.  We don't give ourselves credit for never having been in this exact moment before.  Maybe it was a similar situation, but it wasn't this one.  And maybe this one requires a new mindset.

4.  Get support

Going through change alone can be isolating, alienating, and all together lonely-making.  The most important thing I've learned in going through change is how important it is to have support.  Whether that comes from a loving coach, a skilled therapist, a dear friend, or a supportive community, finding others who can give you perspective, advice, and help you navigate your way through a change is invaluable.  I would never be where I am today without my coach, my therapist, my friends, and my family.  And I'm not the least bit ashamed to ask them for help.  Because I would want them to come to me if they felt the same way.

So to my friend, and to anyone else out there who is going through change and is afraid, remember that you're not alone, and that no matter how scary it gets, the key is to just keep putting one foot in front of the other.  And to reward yourself for just making it through.

how do you resist?

When you are faced with a change, what's your natural reaction?  Do you tend to get on board 100% right away, only to find out later that you're not so happy with it?  Do you look at the change and take on all the responsibility for making it happen?  Do you do what you can to just lay low and not rock the boat?  All of these are perfectly normal examples of resistance.

Resistance is normal behavior that is intended to slow down, block, or otherwise process a change.  It's natural, and in many cases, a good thing -- if we didn't resist the person who said we should quit our jobs and run off to join the circus, we'd all be tightrope walkers.

Six Resistance Styles
We all respond to change differently, but there are six major identifiable styles of resistance.  We each have a preferred style, but can use all the styles whenever they are called for.  (They're overviewed in no particular order.)

1.  Introjection
This is swallowing the change whole, without taking the time to process it, digest it, chew on it, or come up with reasons why the change could be problematic.  This is absolutely the right response in times of crisis -- the fireman tells you you need to leave a burning building, you swallow that change rapidly and follow his directions for leaving.  You don't argue with the fireman, you don't question it, you just leave.  When this style becomes problematic, however, is when you automatically jump on board with a complex change without giving it the due diligence it requires.  Introjection may look like the desired response -- everyone's in agreement with the change -- but the disagreements and important analysis of the change usually only come after it's been implemented.  Which can be costly.

2.  Confluence
This is making sure that everyone feels heard, understood, and valued as part of the change process.  People  who choose confluence in the face of a change highly value harmony.  They make an effort to ensure that everyone is on board, and if not, they give dissenters an opportunity to air their grievances.  This style is great when you've got a variety of stakeholders and you want to make sure everyone feels included.  It becomes problematic, though, when it's used in a don't-rock-the-boat fashion and is just lip service.  People who prefer confluence can sometimes be two-faced, showing one group of people a calm, agreeing-with-the-change facade while another group hears all the griping and grousing.

3.  Deflection
I call this one the "look, shiny!" style because it essentially distracts attention from the change at hand and focuses it anywhere else.  Deflectors tend to be funny, quick, and entertaining.  They know how to keep a discussion light and ease the tension that often accompanies a change.  They use humor and are very creative, but sometimes this behavior enables others who don't want to face the challenges of the change to sweep the whole discussion under the rug.  Unchecked, deflectors can completely derail a meeting -- or a series of meetings -- and cause change breakdown.

4.  Projection
Projection is the style we most often associate with resistance.  It's a blaming, finger-pointing style that, when done well, brings up the weaknesses, flaws, and loopholes in a change.  This is definitely a style to use at the very first stages of a change, when these elements need to be brought up and addressed.  Used poorly, however, this becomes your typical "it's not me, it's you" attack, and can lead to hurt feelings, lack of listening, and more strongly entrenched negative feelings about the change.  Projectors have a tendency to overlook their own responsibility in change, focusing all their energy on others' shortcomings.

5.  Retrojection
This is the opposite of Projection, in which, instead of pointing the finger at others, the resistor points the finger at him/herself.  Used well, this is an incredible strength (not just because it's my own preferred style) because it encourages growth, ownership, and development of the resistor. "What's MY part?"  Used badly, however, it leads one to take over a change, set impossible standards, and make it difficult for anyone else to participate in the change.  It can be a "my way or the highway" mentality that implies that nobody else could make the change as well as the Retrojector, and is often accompanied by self-blame and self-punishment.

6.  Desensitization
In this resistance style, the resistor just shuts down emotionally.  He/she may smile, nod, and tell you what you want to hear, or simply tune out and stop paying attention to the change all together.  Used well, this style can help to reduce the emotional charge in a situation, and can protect the resistor from unwanted negativity.  Used badly, it leads to non-participation and daydreaming.

Do any of these sound familiar to you?  Once you recognize your preferred style, the real work begins.  When are you using your style to your advantage, and when are you using it to your detriment?  Here's an example from my life: I was recently involved in a change in which a relationship was ending.  As a Retrojector, I immediately looked at my responsibility in that change -- I was a little more intense than I needed to be, and I didn't pick up on a few crucial messages he was sending (among other things).  But at the time, I didn't use Retroflection as a strength, I used it as a weapon.  I blamed myself, called myself names, and vowed to work double-time to fix my shortcomings.  Now that I know I'm a Retrojector, however, I see that I was overdoing it.  That it wasn't all my fault, and that changing my personality wasn't going to fix everything.  He had some responsibility in the change, too, and that I let him off the hook without including it.

Once you know your style, you can decide how deep you want to use it.  Will you use it as a tool, or will you use it as a weapon?  (For what it's worth, I recommend "tool.")

You can learn more about this from my incredible teacher, Pat Battle, of Pat Battle and Associates.  In three short days, she changed my life.

making peace with peanut butter

I  confess: I love peanut butter with a fierce, burning love that should probably be reserved for a soul mate, or, you know, a person (or a pet – you know, something that can love me back). The sweet saltiness, the salty sweetness. Not even its being one of the few foods that can’t be dislodged by the Heimlich maneuver will dissuade me from my faith in its perfection.
I. Love. Peanut Butter.
Now, I’m sure you’re thinking “Kate, that’s not burning love, that’s food obsession.” But you’re wrong! I mean, it’s not like I stay up every night, dreaming of peanut better. And I don’t bathe in it (much) or talk about it (daily) or carry pictures of it in my wallet (though that’s not a bad idea). I’m not nuts! (heh heh)

It’s just that, up until about six weeks ago, if there was peanut butter in my house, I would consume it. Rapidly. By the spoonful. While standing next to the pantry door. Drooling. (It was not pretty.)

So I never bought peanut butter. Safer to just not have it in the house than to risk the 47,000 calories I was likely to consume in a sitting, like I did whenever visiting my mother, who, surprisingly, doesn’t have the same obsession. (My sister, though, suffers the same compulsion so perhaps it comes from my father’s side...)

I started reading a book called “Intuitive Eating” by Evelyn Tribole and Elyse Resch that talked about the dieting mentality and how food restriction doesn’t work. “When you rigidly limit the amount of food you are allowed to eat,” they wrote, “it usually sets you up to crave larger quantities of that very food.” So by not having peanut butter in the house, I was setting myself up for hours of drooling next to the pantry door.

Their advice? Slowly re-introduce any foods you have restricted and teach yourself that you are allowed to have them. Reset your inner calibration so that you can appreciate the food for what it is, and not for all the emotional baggage that saying no to it has meant. For me, the first choice was, of course, peanut butter.

I warily bought a jar of natural (because it’s the most deliciousest kind) and kept it in the cabinet. The first week? It was bad. I ate a lot of peanut butter. And the second week, too. The third week started to taper off a bit, because, let’s be honest, at least half the jar was gone, and the fourth week it dropped off even more. By the fifth and sixth weeks, there were maybe two or three spooonfuls just sitting in the jar, smiling at me.

I call that a success! A jar of peanut butter has never lasted six weeks in my house before!

So what did I learn? That yes, I go to peanut butter for comfort. And I go there because I’m not usually allowed to go there, so it makes me feel special. But once I could have it any time I wanted, some of the comfort left. I started to see it as a fuel. A delicious fuel, don’t get me wrong, but one that was in service of me, not the master of me.

Can I take this experiment to the next level and do it with ice cream? I’m not sure. In truth, it takes a lot of faith, and a willingness to put on a little weight in the service of making peace. And given that it’s hot AND bathing suit season, I may hold off on this experiment until December. But I’ve taken the message to heart – there’s nothing I can’t eat. And when I watch people around me dieting and worrying about what they eat, I wonder if they, too, will sometime soon, find themselves next to the pantry door, overeating in an effort to feel special.

worlds collide! (or, would liking Office 2010 more make me a better person?)

I may or may not have mentioned that, once upon a time, I was a technology trainer at a law firm, teaching  lawyers how to use their computers.  So I'm something of a Microsoft Office expert, though it's not a quality I whip out at a first meeting because, really, it's not my sexiest feature.

Recently I was upgraded at work to Office 2010.  For those of you who don't know (or don't care), it's pretty radically different from the version I had before:  instead of menus, which drop down, there are ribbons, which spread across (and aren't nearly as easter-baskety as I was hoping).  I could go into greater detail, but all you really need to know is that things changed, and I was not happy.

But here's the funny thing -- I work with change a lot.  I teach a class on resiliency and the importance of being able to flow with change.  I know that I should be focusing on the things I can control (e.g., my learning) instead of the things I can't (e.g., the fact that Ctrl+Shift+M no longer creates a new message but instead tells me that a feature in my voicemail isn't working).  I know that I'm in the "ending" phase, or possibly the "confusion" phase, and that, soon, I'll be onboard with all these great new features.  I know a lot about change, and yet... none of it actually makes it easier to use Outlook!

This is where the big question comes in -- am I more reluctant to changes in Outlook because I think I'm an expert in it?  And does identifying myself with the idea of "experthood" make it, in fact, harder to change?

I remind myself to have a beginner's mind with Outlook, to seek out other experts, and find work-arounds for the things that used to come "expertly."  But I won't deny that it's challenging and frustrating.  And it makes me worried -- am I more of an Office expert than I am a change expert?

And should I really be worried about being an expert at all?

do nothing

Over a recent brunch of silver dollar pancakes and two eggs (scrambled), I was complaining to my dear friend Jimmy about how I feel like I'm not making progress in the things that I want in my life.  He put down his birthday french toast, smiled, and gave me some wise advice. He said:

“You need to spend more time up a tree, with your shoes off, eating jellybeans and watching the clouds go by.”

(Like this, but with jellybeans* ---->)

"You have no idea," he said (and I am here paraphrasing) "how hard you work.  You need to take more time OFF.  Don't push for an outcome, just let it come to you."

"But, but, but..." I stammered.  I'd never get ANYWHERE if I did THAT.  And there are things that I want.  I, I, I... I don't know what to DO.

"Do nothing."  he said. 

After brunch, it started to hit me.  I've gotten much more gentle with my expectations in the past five years but I still drive myself, and hard.  I rarely screw up, but when I do, the gloves come off.  I hold my tongue when others don’t do what I have asked them to do THREE TIMES, but if I spend a weekend without checking off everything on my to do list, it was a “waste” of a weekend.

This isn't working.

Especially because, upon reflection, I have evidence that my weekend wasn't a waste.  I mopped the floor, baked a cake, took my friend out for birthday brunch, downloaded Office 2010 onto my computer, and watched several hours of Planet Earth, the nutritional supplement of television.  I didn't do nothing!

What I'm getting at is that it's time for me, once again, to question what it is that drives me.  Where did I learn my standards for what is and isn't ok, and am I willing to revise them?  Are they serving me?  Or are they holding me back? 

What good is going for perfection if it only makes me feel broken along the way?

Thanks, Jimmy.  Happy birthday!

* I may have made up the part about eating jellybeans, but it really should be in there, so I’m pretending it was.

shifting paradigms

I’m not a professional runner, so I won’t pretend to be one. But I’m going to tell you a story about one that, admittedly, comes second hand, so if you are a runner and I get the details wrong, please try to see the forest for the trees.

Back in the day (i.e., the 80’s) there was a guy named Cliff Young. He was a farmer in Australia and had a big farm with lots of sheep. To keep everything on the farm running smoothly, he ran from one part of the farm to another, running, running, running every day.

His friends noticed that he ran so much, they suggested to him that he run in a road race – the most grueling one they could think of, that spanned 543.7miles (875-kilometers) from Sydney to Melbourne. The race is a beast, the kind of race that usually takes fit, young athletes at the top of their form five days to complete.

Did I mention that Cliff was 61? Well, he was.

So Cliff showed up at the race in his farmer clothes – overalls and work boots – while everyone else was there in their Nikes and spandex and what have you. (Remember, it’s the 80’s.) People thought he was a joke. They thought he was there for entertainment, and not to run the race. But when the gun went off, off went Cliff, too.

The thing is, people also thought that the best way to get through this race was to run 18 hours and sleep 6. Run 18, sleep 6. Run 18, sleep 6. For five days. (Trust me, I’m exhausted just typing this.) Cliff, however, didn’t know what he was supposed to do, so he didn’t follow that paradigm. He ran 22 hours, and slept 2. Run 22, sleep 2. Run 22, sleep 2. And get there before anyone else does.

This is but one example of why “the way it’s always been done” doesn’t necessarily mean it’s the best way to do it. If Cliff had known what he was “supposed” to do before joining the race, he probably wouldn’t have won. And he probably would have shown up in Nikes and fancy 80’s spandex like everyone else and run differently than he did (apparently he had something of a shuffle) and possibly even have hurt himself.

So the moral of the story is twofold: just because everyone else thinks you can’t do something doesn’t mean you can’t, and second, just because that’s the way everyone else does it doesn’t mean it’s the only way to do it.

And you know what? The next year everyone ran 22, slept 2.

on newness and seeing clearly

Six years ago I bought a rug off Craigslist. It was a perfect fit for my new apartment, square, wool, from IKEA, and only $150 -- and not hellaciously ugly or cheap-looking. I hopped on the bus, picked up the carpet, hopped back on the bus (garnering strange looks from the bus driver) and then plopped it down in my living room. I was never in love with the rug, but it fit perfectly and, like most furniture, would be harder to get rid of than to just keep forever.

So I kept it forever.

Last year I bought a couch from IKEA and they didn't have the grey slipcovers to match the rug and the room, so I bought the pink slipcovers that were on sale (only $9!), figuring I would come back to IKEA when the grey ones were back in stock.

So, yeah, my couch is still pink.

Long story short, over time I've come to see that I like the pink couch better than the black-and-white rug, so just last week I got a cute new carpet that matches better and is much more me. In the process, I've gotten rid of some furniture, moved some other pieces around, and more or less come to see my living room again for the first time. I see the floor differently. I see the sofa differently. I see so many things that I wasn't seeing because I had gotten so used to the room.

I know it's just stuff, but tweaking your stuff can have a profound impact on the way you see the world. I've been really conscious lately of trying to make my external space a reflection of who I am at my best (not at my laziest).

Another example:

The highlight of my living room is not, in fact, the pink sofa, but instead is a mirror that you can see from every room in my house. I love the mirror and consult it regularly to see if my outfit matches or if my eyebrows are too bushy. In the process of moving in my new carpet, I realized just how dirty my mirrors were, so I cleaned them. All of the mirrors in my house. And I was SHOCKED to see how different I looked after simply cleaning the mirrors. Angles were sharpened. Details appeared finer, more crisp. I saw more of everything, good and bad.

While this is a true story, it's also a metaphor. (And you don't have to pay extra for that, folks!) Fiona Apple says it well in her excellent song, Window:

"... the fact being that
Whatever's in front of me
Is covering my view
So I can't see what I'm seeing in fact
I only see what I'm looking through"

So I ask you, what are you taking for granted (like I took my living room)? What are you allowing to blur your vision (like the dust on my mirrors)? What do you need to do to shake things up just enough to be able to see your filters and realign them?

walls in our heads

Thanks to my friend Brian, I'm happy to share an interesting article about the allure of creating the walls in our heads, which continues on the post I shared two weeks ago.

For those of you who might not want to read the whole article, here are a couple of quotes I think are interesting:

"Walls, then, are built not for security, but for a sense of security."

"...walls can also block one’s view, but that should not be such big problem, especially when one wants to hide."

"The erection of a wall signifies that someone has got something precious and that the others should know about it."

Whenever we identify ourselves as something ("I'm a New Yorker," "I'm a nice person"), we exclude other options and possibilities and limit ourselves. Do I love being a New Yorker? Yes! Is it important to me to be a nice person? Absolutely. But when I build a wall that says "I'm a New Yorker and I'm not anything else," that limits me. Same thing with being a nice person -- or any other identification you're likely to make.

Why draw lines? Instead, be flexible and explore what it would mean to not be a New Yorker, or to be a mean person. How would that change you? What would the impact be? You might be surprised by what you find...

The Nice Day

Last month I attended the “I Can Do It” conference sponsored by Hay House publishers, and there were tons of great presenters –Louise Hay, Wayne Dyer, Marianne Williamson, Cheryl Richardson, and my absolute favorite, Robert Holden.

Wayne Dyer kicked off the conference, and the idea that struck me the most out of all of the ideas he presented is that we should spend the last five minutes of our days thinking about the fulfillment of the dreams and wishes we have for our lives.

Think about the last five minutes of your day, as you’ve climbed into bed and ready to pass out for the night. What do you do in that time? Do you start to worry about all the things you didn’t get done today? Or think about how you screwed up today? Or dread getting up tomorrow morning and doing it all over? If so, that’s pretty natural. Many of us don’t pay attention to the way we send ourselves off to sleep.

But think about it for a minute. Our subconscious is the most powerful processor in our brain. But it doesn’t know the difference between what’s real and what’s imaginary, so if we soak it in frustrations or agitations before going to bed, it could very well process them as if they really happened.

Enter your good friends, Toss and Turn.

If we take the last five minutes of the day, when we’re cozy in bed, comfortable, relaxed, and have the most peace we’re likely to see all day, and we focus on what it would feel like if our wishes came true, it allows your subconscious to marinate in what you want – not what you don’t want. Remember that it’s all about attention – what you focus on is what you’re likely to see more of in your life. So focus on what you did well during the day, what it would feel like to be 25 pounds lighter, how nice it would be to snuggle up with that somebody you’ve been longing for, or how terrific it would feel to wake up to a clean house.

So Wayne Dyer may be a spiritual teacher for the ages, but my mother knew this idea instinctively. When we were little, she would read to us in bed, and then end the bedtime process by telling us the Nice Day.

“We had a nice day. We got up, and went to school. There was a hard test in math, and we did our best. We had a fight with Sherri on the bus, but it’s over now. We practiced the piano and had a good dinner with the family, and then we watched some tv, and now it’s time to go to sleep.”

Simple. Focus on the things that happened, release the stressful or the negative, focus on the positive, and let your brain go to sleep thinking about the good stuff.

My nephew is now 13 months old and, while he talks a lot, none of it is quite English yet. But my mom suggested recently to my sister that he’s old enough now for the Nice Day. And I love the thought of my sister being able to help him form a habit that will serve him for the rest of his life.

Book Review: One Small Step can Change Your Life: The Kaizen Way

The idea is big, but Robert Maurer’s book is quite small. “Kaizen” is Japanese for “improvement,” and it’s the philosophy that taking small steps is the best way to make continual improvement.

Or as I once told a client, “Baby steps only go forwards.”

Think of the last time you set out to make a major change. What did you feel? Exhilaration? Exhaustion? Excitement? Trepidation? Most people, when faced with change, will feel at least some element of fear. And very often that fear can get in the way of actually making the change. The idea of kaizen is to take make such small changes that your brain doesn’t even know you’re changing, and therefore, doesn’t get in the way.

It’s kind of genius.

There are six strategies in Maurer’s book:

1. Asking small questions

2. Thinking small thoughts

3. Taking small actions

4. Solving small problems

5. Giving small rewards

6. Recognizing small moments

Let’s take a quick look at each of these.

1. Asking small questions

Your brain loves questions. Just look at how many people are drawn to crosswords and Sudoku and jigsaw puzzles. But instead of overwhelming yourself with big questions (“How can I lose 25 pounds?” “How will I ever get a job in this economy?”) focus on the small questions instead (“If health were my first priority, what would I do differently today?” “What little step could I take today towards my ideal job?”).

Watch out, though, for negative questions. We get more of what we focus on, so if you’re tempted to ask yourself “Why does this always happen to me?” or “What’s wrong with me?” your brain will be delighted to work on those questions, too. In a judgmental, awful, negative way.

2. Thinking small thoughts

This is all about visualization, or what Maurer calls “mind sculpture.” Mentally practice a task using all five of your senses, and you are much more likely to develop the skills it takes to actually engage in that task in the real world. But this isn’t about 30 minutes of meditation on a task. It’s about how many seconds a day you’re willing to devote to the effort. The idea is to make it simple, habitual, and fun. And nobody can say they don’t have an extra 45 seconds a day, right?

3. Taking small actions

If you want to clean your house, you can go into the most awful room and start trying to rid it of its clutter, but for some of us, that’s just too big an idea. And so we avoid it. Instead, if you clean your house the kaizen way, it becomes about going into that room and cleaning up for five minutes. Or removing five pieces of clutter every day. Big, bold actions often get us initial results, but don’t take into account things like lack of time, exhaustion, fear, or resistance. The smaller steps get us to the goal because they can be so easily incorporated into daily life.

Here are some suggestions for small actions you can take:

If you want to stop overspending, remove one item from your cart before checking out.

If you want to start exercising, go – just go – to the gym three times a week.

If you want to get more sleep, go to sleep one minute earlier or sleep one minute later each day.

They may not seem like much, but for anyone who is really resistant to change, these are cracks of light in an otherwise dark room.

4. Solving small problems

The key to solving small problems is catching them when they’re still small. And if you miss that window, the trick is to solve small problems in the face of really large problems. Some of this step involves trusting your gut and listening to what your instincts tell you about things – so you can prevent small problems from becoming bigger ones. Maurer has a great exercise for helping to spot the warning signs.

5. Give small rewards

Small rewards serve us best as recognition of a job well done. They can be little treats and pleasures, or simply a verbal acknowledgement of taking the small action you set out to take. A few key things to remember:

The reward should be appropriate to the goal – that is, don’t reward yourself with chocolate if your goal is to lose weight

The reward should be appropriate to the person – I, for example, would not particularly enjoy the reward of watching a football game and drinking a beer as a reward for a day of hard work, but I know plenty of people who would.

The reward should be free or inexpensive – if not, rewarding yourself for all your small steps could become a financial burden, which would subvert the whole kaizen
process.

6. Recognizing small moments

This is all about paying attention to what’s going on around you and what opportunities for change naturally arise. A couple of the examples Maurer shares are:

A flight attendant noticed that passengers weren’t eating the olives in their five-item
salads. A the time, five-item salads cost far more than four-item salads. When the fifth item (olives) was dropped from the salad, the company saved half a million dollars a year.

George de Mestral, a Swiss engineer, noticed that when he took his dog out for a walk, the dog came back covered in burrs. His attention to this small moment led to the invention of Velcro.

Having this curiosity and awareness about life allowed the opportunities for innovation and enhancement to present themselves. Combining these six steps yields a very powerful philosophy, especially for anyone who has ever been afraid, stressed, or overwhelmed by change.

And because the book is so little (and only took me a day to read), it’s the perfect first small step!

the difference a year can make

Fifty one weeks ago, I went to Midsummer Night's Swing at Lincoln Center on a date. I had always wanted to go, and that night they were teaching the hustle, which (as far as I could tell) seemed fairly harmless. It was a second or third date, so I knew the guy a little, but not terribly well, and I was a little concerned about looking like an idiot.

I'm not a great dancer. I'm very white, and I think I might lack a joint or two. But I love to move. Aerobics? Yes, please. Running? Sure, why not. Kickboxing? You bet! So dancing is something I've wanted to do ever since I moved to the city, and (can you believe it?) I've never really been.

So my date (who, I discovered later, LOVED to dance, and probably would have hustled the hell out of the night) wandered around the periphery of the dance floor with me, and we never bought tickets. We mildly shook our booties and kindasorta hustled, but there was really no dancing to speak of.

Had he gone there without me (which, for the record, he wouldn't have), I feel confident that he would have bought a ticket and danced. And I envied him that.

Fast forward 51 weeks. It's Midsummer Night's Swing again, only this time that date is no longer in the picture. I've invited a number of friends to join me for the evening, but none are available. So I go again, this time all by myself. Because I want to be the kind of person who, when she finds herself faced with something she has always wanted to do, doesn't require an escort.

And that same embarrassment, that same reluctance to get up there and move my body crept back in. The gremlin inside kept saying awful things like, "Don't go out there; everyone will know you're alone. They'll wonder why you have no friends. They'll pity you. It's safer to stay off the dance floor. Save your $20. Just go home. You came to the event. That counts. Now just leave."

For easily 15 minutes, I wandered around Damrosch Park, watching the guy give a dance lesson, watching everyone have fun trying to do 80's hip-hop moves (which most of them really couldn't) and envying them. Why couldn't I just get in there and do it, too?

Finally, after WAY more agony than was required, I bought my ticket, checked my bag, and got on the dance floor.

I want to say it felt triumphant, but really, it didn't.

I'm glad I got over my anxiety, I'm glad I put the notch in my belt, and I'm glad that I showed myself that I can do things alone. But I'm also willing to recognize that there are some things that are just more fun when done with people you know or care about. And I think dancing to 80's covers while avoiding the flailing limbs of people even whiter than you might just be one of those things.

that which we resist persists

About ten years ago, I was working with a therapist who, after a couple of sessions where I talked about my relationship with food, suggested I go to an Overeaters Anonymous meeting, just to see if it would help.

And the minute she said it, every single cell in my body revolted. I wanted to die. There was absolutely NO WAY I would go to one of those meetings. Never. Ever. Not in a million years, not if you gave me a million dollars. Never. Not if the room was full of hot, eligible bachelors. Not if it meant I would never overeat again. If I happened to be running down the hall of a burning building and the only way out was through an OA meeting, I'd burn up with the industrial carpeting. Not. A. Snowball's. Chance. In. Hell.

A simple suggestion, one that I could take or discard, and my whole essence was ready to drop a very small, very targeted nuclear bomb on the sweet, dear therapist who mentioned the idea.

Needless to say, ten years passed, and my relationship with food has remained interesting.

When I feel good about myself, food is my nourishment. When I feel bad, it's my comfort. And I think that's pretty "normal." But since I don't see anyone else eat, and can't get inside the heads of other eaters, I have no idea whether my relationship is dysfunctional or not. However, some part of me desperately fears that it is. Otherwise I wouldn't be willing to burn up with the carpeting.

So, last week, in honor of the Year of Yes! (well, ok the fourteen months of yes) and in an exploration of Risk, I went. And it was scary. And it was awkward. And the building had some truly horrid industrial carpeting. But what's most important is that I made it out the other side. Was I like some of the women in that room? Yes. We all had tricky relationships with food. Was I not like some of the women in that room? Yes. And for privacy reasons I won't say why.

What I was afraid of was the label. I was afraid of admitting that my relationship with food might have been "abnormal" or "dysfunctional" which would, by association, make me a failure. Yes, it was that simple. If I went to a meeting of people who had trouble controlling their eating and found I was like them in any way, I was a failure.

I'm pleased that I went, and I'm incredibly proud of myself for facing that silly little fear that's been holding me back for ten years. Will I go again? Not to that particular meeting. I'll try another one, just to see, but I don't particularly care for the 12 Step model.

So I'll throw it out to you: what are you afraid of? What one thing does your whole body create a violent reaction to when you consider doing it? And if you could do it safely, what would it take for you to do it?

doing The Work

A few weeks ago I went to a two-day workshop with Byron Katie, a teacher and leader who has developed a very clean, streamlined way of digging a little deeper into the thoughts and beliefs that keep you stuck. And while I didn't care for Katie herself (she was a little holier-and-more-transcendental-than-thou than I care for in my teachers), much to my own surprise and consternation, I got a lot out of her workshop.*

The first thing we did when the workshop started was to fill in a Judge Your Neighbor Worksheet. (You can get one, too, for free here.) You're asked to think of a specific situation in the past that has caused you pain and continues to cause you pain or discomfort whenever you think about it. Then, with that scenario in mind, you fill in the statements on the page.

Once your statements about what you needed someone else to do, say, think, or feel in that situation are on the page, you take a deep breath, and go back and question those statements. I'll go through one of mine as an example.

I looked back on a breakup situation and wrote "In that situation, I am angry with Frank because he wasn't ready to be in a relationship with me." (The underlined phrases are what I filled in. And "Frank," as usual, is a pseudonym.)

That statement is then subjected to four questions:

1. Is it true?

2. Can you absolutely know that it's true?

3. How do you react (behave) when you believe that thought?

4. Who would you be without that thought?

So, was it true? It sure seemed true. I was angry. I was angry at Frank. And he wasn't ready to be in a relationship with me -- he even said so. So it seemed pretty true. But when I got to the next question -- can I absolutely know that it's true -- things fell apart. Frank may have told me that to get me off his back. He may have changed in the several months since we split up. He may have been ready, but the timing wasn't right, etc. There was really no way of knowing what was going on outside the confines of my own head.

So the answer to the second question was No.

How I react when I believe that thought is to get frustrated all over again. To feel like I'm not worth being ready to be in a relationship for. To feel like I'll never be in a relationship. I feel angry, and sorry, and frustrated, and fired up, and invested. None of which is pretty.

So who would I be without these thoughts? I'd be more free. I could be more understanding, less judgmental, less angry, less invested. I could be a better friend to him. I could be a better friend to myself.

(See how this is starting to work?)

Then, the final step is to take the statement through a series of turnarounds.

Initial statement: "Frank wasn't ready to be in a relationship with me."

First: I wasn't ready to be in a relationship with me. (Doesn't feel very true, but I sit with it anyway.)

Second: I wasn't ready to be in a relationship with Frank. (Again, doesn't feel very true, but I let the ideas wash over me.)

Third: Frank was ready to be in a relationship with me. (This one had a little more impact, because it allowed me to see what a relationship at that point would have been like. It wouldn't have been the kind of relationship I would choose, that's for sure.)

I used this technique on a series of non-useful beliefs to great results. Imagine this one:

"I'm going to be single for the rest of my life."

First: I'm not going to be single for the rest of my life. (Heard it.)

Second: I'm going to be single only for a short time. (Hmmm, all of a sudden, singlehood is a precious commodity...)

Third: I'm going to be partnered up for the rest of my life. (Wow! I better make the most of this singleness now, that's for sure!)

I recommend picking up a worksheet, taking yourself through it, and sitting with a friend, coach, or trusted advisor and having that person take you through the questions and turnarounds. And when you're done, you can thank me for saving you $295 and a day and a half of uncomfortable hotel seats and recycled air.

* When I don't like a teacher personally, I don't want to like her work. I don't know why, but it probably has to do with a smallness and competitiveness in me that says, "But you don't like her, her work can't be good!"

Stages of Change

So it's a new year, right? And you're thinking about making a change or two... maybe? Well, here's an interesting theory about change and the phases you're likely to go through while making those changes.

The Stages of Change theory, developed by James Prochaska and Carlo DiClemente at the University of Rhode Island in the 70's, covers six different mindsets involved in the process of change.

The cycle starts with Precontemplation. This is the mindset where people -- especially the addicts that Prochaska and DiClemente studied at URI -- didn't think they needed (or wanted) to change. If you're still reading this and still thinking about a change, you're already past this mindset. (Just sayin'.)

The second stage is Contemplation. This is where you're sortakindasorta thinking about maybe making a change... someday. You see the obstacles really clearly, but not so much the benefits of making the change. This can be the longest stage, sometimes lasting moments, and sometimes lasting a lifetime.

If this sounds familiar, ask yourself these questions to help progress through this phase:

What are the benefits of changing?

What's preventing you from changing?

What are some things that could help you make this change?

The third stage is Preparation, which is essentially a research and information gathering phase. This is when you start asking around, maybe reading a book about getting organized or finding a new job. You read a blog like this one! (Hooray!)

If this sounds familiar, some things you can do to progress through this phase are:

Write down your goals and post them where you can see them

Find support groups and/or a supportive partnership with a coach

Gather information -- you may find it propels you into action

Following Preparation comes Action. This is where you start walking the walk and talking the talk. This phase is essential to making change, but all the previous stages support it -- if you skip research and go straight to action, you may not have the information you need. Similarly, if you don't really think about the change you want to make, you may not have the seed for change firmly planted inside you.

If you're in Action, things you can do to keep this moving forward are:

Reward your small successes -- isn't it ridiculous how we ooh and ahh at a baby who even thinks about rolling over, but we demand that we, as adults, execute a new behavior flawlessly? Ooh and ahhh at yourself!

Seek support -- you really will do better if you're not alone

Be prepared for setbacks

Next is Maintenance. This is where you've incorporated the new behavior into your life and are successfully avoiding the pitfalls that surrounded the old behavior. Keep looking for new and fancier ways to avoid temptation.

Ways to keep your Maintenance tip top:

Be patient! Recognize that real change takes time, effort, and energy

Anticipate temptations and setbacks, and think about ways to avoid them

And, of course, there's always Relapse. The tricky thing about Relapse is that it can come at any point. And the even tricker thing is that it likes to settle in and, like that ugly green mucous in those decongestant commercials, unpack all its negative feelings into you.

The key to getting through a Relapse, big or small is this: do what you can to NOT see yourself as a failure. Realize that every change involves some relapse. Analyze the situation for ways to better protect yourself next time. Also, be aware of where you go after a Relapse. Are you going back to Precontemplation? I sure hope not! Try, whenever possible, to land in Preparation, Action, or Maintenance!

Here's a video that sort of sums this all up neatly:

And, just because I came across it while doing research for this post and had a serious WTF moment, another video:

Oh! And I almost forgot! If you're in NYC and in the Contemplation, Preparation, or Action phase and want to make some changes, I'm offering a goal-setting class on January 22nd from 10-2. More details are here.